Bill, Baby-san, V29, "Too Tall", Hugh, Rod, Bruce, Mike, and anyone who ever jumped out of one into a hot LZ and, more importantly, rode one *out* of a hot LZ... whether as the driver or cargo.
And those who saw a bird hov'ring over them to winch them away from death's cold grip even if there weren't bullets flying.
Whether it was Hubert, a Flying Banana, Choctaw, Chickasaw, Blackhawk, Chinook...
H/t, La Migra - Air Assault!
And those who saw a bird hov'ring over them to winch them away from death's cold grip even if there weren't bullets flying.
Whether it was Hubert, a Flying Banana, Choctaw, Chickasaw, Blackhawk, Chinook...
H/t, La Migra - Air Assault!
And with a sop to Carborundum...
www.youtube.com/watch
Helo bubbas deserve more respect than they get from the "real" flyboy fighter jock types. They are the ones that actually "close with the enemy" and get shot at helping out the grunts.
All part of the same team.
But when that UH-1 or UH-60 comes in from nowhere, and flares out to set down in the middle of a firefight, knowing that he and his crew just put up a huge neon sign to every bad guy in the area that he (or she) is now a primary target, and they do it willingly, and repeatedly until the job is done... Knowing that, if anything goes wrong, the best that that aircrew can hope for is to become one of us, stuck on the ground, even if its just waiting for the next bird to come in and extract them, and the spectrum passes through possibilities that are the stuff of nightmares, but they do it anyway, in direct support of guys like me..?
It's love, man... I'm not ashamed to admit it for a second. Bone deep love. I can always dig a hole, hide behind a tree, cut loose with more firepower than the bad guys, or even just run away...
But when that bird is hovering 20 feet in the air, just entering ground effect, just entering ground effect, with no energy left to claw back in to the sky and escape... That's just letting it all hang out...
And if they' get stuck on the ground, they trust in us to take care of them, keep them alive, do what we do best while they're in our world, it's a symbiotic relationship, and I pray to God that I never fail to live up to my end of the bargain, because they sure as hell live up to theirs...
Sgt. B,
Trust me, it looks like forever when you're hovering at 20' above the water and the nod comes for you to exit the bird and go get the fellow floating out there. I'll say this, though. Everytime I hear the blades of a Huey, the hair on my neck stands up, and there's a shot of adrenaline runs through my system. it's a sound that you never forget, that you identify at once.
It was one of the defining points in our generation. Shape, Sound. Smell. Feel.
I loved that old bird. Still do.
Womp...womp...womp...
Some of us stopped what we were doing and looked around. From the hardstand aircraft display area, a Huey was warming up. I looked at my friend and he was stock still watching. I shouted over to our balloon pilot, who had his head down, and he shouted back..."shut up I'm listening".
When I looked out over the crowd who most were looking at us prepare, there were many heads turned toward the noise with some jumping up to get a better look.
Womp, womp, womp...
And then it lifted straight up to a hover, pivoted 180 and flew off. We could hear shouts and whistles and clapping. It didn't do anything...not a flyby...it was just part of the ground display. It left to a standing O.
http://americanhuey369.org/
It was more painful when we had to chauffeur the occasional VIP or starred ossifers around the AO.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yauoaW7HfAs
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qH2vbYs6ebc
If I ever get uninterrupted access, I'll do a (boring) five-hour post on the aerodynamics of the rotor system.